


Written Across My Heart

by WritLarge



Category: Inception (2010), The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Fluff, Great British Bake Off AU, Inappropriate Holiday Candy - Freeform, M/M, POV Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: “It’s sweet.”“It’s annoying.”“Liar. You like it.”Arthur isn't quite sure what Eames means by all the little ways he alters his bakes to suit Arthur.Luckily, Eames is prepared to spell it out for him.





	Written Across My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkys_creature_feature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkys_creature_feature/gifts).



> Pinky's prompt was "Inappropriate Holiday Candy" and somehow it became a GBBO AU. I hope you like it!
> 
> Edit: Crap. I always forget to add thank yous to my notes. Thank you to youcantsaymylastname for helping me brainstorm for this fic! Your GBBO thoughts/resources were much appreciated.

It was the last weekend of filming and Arthur was... conflicted.

The remaining three bakers were Yusuf, Saito, and Eames. It was anyone’s Bake Off to win, they were all highly skilled, but it was Eames who had stolen the show. The man worked magic at his station and was rarely ruffled. Arthur had watched dozens of amazing bakers before, however, and it wasn’t Eames skill that hooked him.

He’d thought it was coincidence at first. Eames was congenial and a little flirtatious with everyone, who generally took it in stride with smiles or giggles in response. Everyone liked him. The fact that Eames was gorgeous probably helped. And his _mouth_. Arthur had quickly learned for the sake of his sanity not to watch Eames tasting anything, which involved far too much licking of spoons, fingers, and other implements that would send Arthur’s thoughts careening in a decidedly unprofessional direction.

But the “coincidences” had piled up week after week and had revealed a focus that was obvious enough to make his co-host/work wife gleeful.

“Are you still in denial about Eames?” Ariadne prodded him.

“He’s just having fun.”

“It’s sweet.”

“It’s annoying.”

“Liar. You like it.”

“Ari-”

“You’d scowl a lot more if you didn’t. Remember Nash?”

Arthur would rather not. 

“See? You’re scowling right now. Think about shortbread and coconut lime tarts.”

Arthur sighed and smiled reluctantly. Eames had gone out of his way in the biscuit showstopper challenge to use shortbread in making his tiny village, unlike the rest of the bakers who used gingerbread which Arthur was well known to dislike. Coconut Lime tarts as his signature bake during Pies and Tarts week was another nod to Arthur’s tastes. He’d had to choke back a moan of delight when he’d tasted those. There had been others too, but Eames’ most blatant Arthur-bakes had been during Batter week and Dessert week. 

Hell, even the judges had commented on Dessert week. Arthur and Ariadne each had their own style as hosts. Ari was known for her colourful choices, flowing scarves and eclectic footwear. She was also a sweetheart who encouraged and teased. Arthur, on the other hand, preferred to wear slim fitting suits with fashionable ties, and was known for his dry wit and commentary. When Eames had presented his mini mousse cakes, one round mocha flavoured set with a thin sponge around the sides that made them look as though they were wearing tiny suits, everyone had grinned. They hadn’t noticed the second set, however. Those had been square and lighter in colour, flavoured with a tart lemon basil mousse, and were topped with a thin disc imprinted faintly with a pattern of Necker cubes that matched Arthur’s favourite tie. A tie he’d worn once each season. 

Eames noticed everything apparently. 

And then there had been Batter week. Eames had made three types of sufganiyot: a dozen elegantly decorated ones with a red wine cranberry jelly inside that Mal had raved over, a dozen equally pretty with some kind of spiced custard, and a dozen more traditionally jelly filled and sugar dusted that had tasted so much like Arthur’s bubbe had made when he was a child that he’d had to take a moment to pull himself together afterwards. How the hell Eames had known was a mystery. 

Ariadne had snatched up several and huddled with him outside, away from the cameras while the set was being cleaned, where they could enjoy their Hannukah memories in peace.

“Damn, Eames had stepped up his courting through baking.”

“It’s a doughnut.” 

“It’s amazing and you know it! Arthur, if he isn’t Jewish, you need to convince him to convert. We could get him to make hamantaschen and rugelach.”

“When was the last time you even talked to a rabbi?” Ariadne came from a secular background and, while she knew enough about holidays and traditions, hadn’t had the pleasure of Hebrew school or a no-nonsense Yiddish grandmother like Arthur had. Arthur hadn’t had any family to celebrate Hannukah with in years, however. Not since his parents had passed away. No one on his father’s gentile side of the family bothered with any traditions outside their own. 

“Tell him he needs to convert before you get married. He’s obviously gone on you.”

“No fraternizing, remember?”

Ariadne had trudged back inside and Arthur had followed a minute later, nearly tripping over Eames as he did.

“Sorry, love. Everything all right?” Eames had handed Arthur a bottle of water, which he’d gratefully accepted. Between the weather and the amount of deep frying that had been going on in the tent, the temperature had soared for Batter week filming.

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Anytime, darling.”

So, maybe he wasn’t really annoyed with Eames. But Arthur tried not to get his hopes up. Eames had never acted on any opportunity that he’d had. Never directly approached Arthur. He’d remained amiable and flirtatious, as though each little nod to Arthur was innocent when it felt anything but. Arthur was unsettled. Contestants had flirted a bit with him before, but it was usually easier to shrug off and remain distantly friendly. Arthur and Ariadne spent a lot of time filming with them and they connected with the bakers.

Of course, the Nash incident was still having an effect. Nash had been a contestant in the previous season and had made some rather lewd comments to Arthur before making further unwanted advances. Never where the judges could see, however, so it had been kept out of the show and only come out in interviews after the season had aired. Nash had lasted for 5 weeks. 

There had been legal threats and accusations after he'd been eliminated, but it hadn’t gone anywhere because cameramen were sneaky and had caught everything on tape. The hosts had gone through lengthy discussions with the showrunners as to just what kind of physical interaction was allowed and there was a strict “no fraternizing between contestants and cast/crew” rule in the contracts now. So it was possible that even if Eames was serious, he wouldn’t actually risk his place on the show by doing anything about it.

It was harder and harder for Arthur to hang on to that friendly composure with Eames, however. He saw Arthur too clearly. Took note of his dislikes, remembered his favourites, and made choices that were sweet and clever without being embarrassing or creepy. Contestants sometimes attempted to woo the judges with their favourites, finding ways to use the types of flour that Dom favoured or some french style that Mal would coo over, but Arthur was only a host. His opinion was irrelevant, which made it all the more perplexing and flattering.

And now, filming the final episode, Arthur felt as though he’d been wound up like a spring, an ache coiled tightly in his chest. 

“Ready for the big finale?” Ariadne pressed her shoulder into his arm.

“Sure.” It was just another finale. Right?

“Welcome, finalists!” she began. “And Happy Holidays. That’s right. It might be summer outside, but in here, it’s Christmas!”

The set was a blur of movement and chatter after they announced the signature bake, a Christmas favourite: Fruitcake. Mal was not thrilled, but Dom was eager to see what they’d come up with. Arthur and Ariadne toured the stations, taking note with the judges and checking in with contestants. 

Saito was as cool and collected as always, his station never descending into the post bake mess the way other bakers did. Dom commented with concern that Saito’s ratios might leave him with a rather dry cake, but the man seemed unruffled. 

Yusuf’s planned Chocolate Cherry fruitcake with rum sauce looked like it would go over well. Mal adored cherries. Ariadne easily got Yusuf laughing and explaining his design, which included a rum sauce in pipettes, leaving a perfect opening for Arthur to comment.

“You like living dangerously. Did you bring a splash guard?” Dom had accidentally sprayed a similar pipette of drizzle across Tadashi’s chest during Cake week and had tumbled over Robert’s tiny jug of caramel completely during Dessert week, ruining more than one pair of shoes. Thankfully they’d been able to refilm as there was spare sauce remaining. 

“Oh, I’m fully prepared to duck and cover in the name of baking perfection,” Yusuf replied, lifting a baking tray as though it were a shield.

He left Ariadne behind and approached Eames’ station as calmly as he could manage. Eames had planned a more traditional British fruitcake, with sherry soaked fruit and dark treacle. 

“Hello, darling,” he glanced up. “Do you like fruitcake?”

“I’ve never tried it.”

“What, never?” Eames turned to him fully. “I thought you needed experience for this job.”

“Nope,” Ariadne interjected as she came over. “We only need to speak clearly and look pretty.”

“And you both do that so very well,” Eames smirked back at Ariadne before returning his gaze to Arthur. “This is my mum’s recipe, however, so you have to give it a try. I promise not to hold it against you if you don’t like it.”

After filming their shots, the bakers were left to their work while Arthur and Ariadne joined Mal and Dom backstage. They’d finished watching their Six Feet Under box sets (Ariadne’s choice) and since he’d won the coin toss earlier Dom got to choose what to inflict on them today. 

They got through two episodes of Dan Cruickshank's Adventures in Architecture, with periodic interruptions for filming, before the baker’s time was nearly up.

It was Arthur’s turn to go around with the judges. When Arthur tried Yusuf’s fruitcake, accepting another baking tray shield from Yusuf with a chuckle while they waited for Dom to apply the sauce, he was pleasantly surprised by how edible it was. Unfortunately, Saito’s fruitcake was, as Dom had predicted, overly dry. Eames’ mother’s recipe, on the other hand, had come out beautifully and was bursting with flavour. 

“Well done, Eames.” Dom licked his thumb while Mal nodded along.

“I agree. While not the sort of cake I prefer, your flavours are rich and the bake is perfect.”

“Thank you. I don’t think my mum would have let me live it down if I’d mucked it up,” Eames let out a breathy laugh. “Have I won you over to fruitcake too, Arthur?”

Arthur managed to swallow his second helping and answer, “This is amazing.” 

“Oh good.” Eames leaned in towards him as the judges stepped away. “Since you like that, you should try it made properly the way she does at home. Takes weeks. I promise I’ll protect you from the gingerbread. She’s a bit mad for it, unfortunately.”

Arthur sucked in a quick breath, “Umm, I-”

Eames didn’t press any further, however, both of them quickly having to step away to allow the crew to set the stations for the Technical bake while the contestants were herded outside for post-signature reaction interviews.

Arthur and Ariadne were treated to Mal and Dom having one of their not-really-an-argument discussions over who was in the lead. Mal acknowledged Eames’ bake but preferred Yusuf’s flavours, where Dom was definitely on the side of tradition. The two judges had different styles and preferences, but it was always like this and they’d sync up eventually. Arthur had been skeptical when they’d been cast. A married couple. Neither of them needed to carry the other though. They both had their areas of expertise and they had great chemistry. 

The technical bake in the afternoon was Easter themed. 

“Hop to it bakers! Your technical challenge today is one of Dom’s most popular Easter recipes: Hot Cross Buns!”

Throughout the baking, the innuendo was cranked up to eleven with ridiculous puns and Arthur kept expecting Eames to flirt or make some remark in his direction, but he didn’t. A couple hours of later, including the extremely boring stretches of proving time required, dozens of perfectly plump buns were spread out over the judging table. 

The blind judging was tense. Eventually, Mal and Dom put their heads together in the corner and finally came up for air after twenty minutes of deliberation. Yusuf won the Technical, with Eames second and Saito third. 

As everyone was filtering out for outside end of day interviews, someone called his name. Eames.

“Won’t you try a little?” he asked, holding up one of his buns. Arthur caved and took a bite. Usually, the crew descended on the leftovers once filming was done and devoured anything that was left. Eames must have held one back.

“Thank you,” he mumbled around the mouthful. 

Stepping close enough for Arthur to feel the warmth radiating from him, Eames caught his wrist and pressed the remaining bun into his hand. “You need feeding, darling.” 

Arthur's heart slammed up into his throat, making it difficult to swallow. Eames had never actually touched him before. 

“Eames! We need you.” Eames released him and pulled away slowly, watching Arthur until he was forced to turn away and exit the back of the tent.

Arthur seriously contemplated sticking his head in the freezer after that but eventually settled on fleeing back to the hotel for the night where he could agonize over Eames’ intentions in peace.

He arrived early the next morning with Ariadne, prepared for the final Show Stopper. Cakes. Tiered cakes, a minimum of three, no two alike. The trick was in the decorating, however, which had to be beautiful, delicious, and holiday themed. Easter and Christmas had been struck off the options, but anything else was fair game.

“You know, after today and you can fraternize all you like,” Ariadne teased.

“Shut up.”

Saito’s misstep in the signature had hurt him. He’d have to do something incredible to catch up now. He was attempting a New Year’s theme with Japanese mochi inspiration. Red bean paste, kuromitsu, plum wine infusions... and something about a white mirror glaze that would probably be flawless if Saito remained true to form.

Yusuf had chosen Diwali and had a ridiculous amount colour spread across his station. He was using traditional flavours like cardamom, saffron, coconut, almond, and rosewater. Arthur didn’t expect him to stay traditional though. Yusuf was known for being something of a baking alchemist with his techniques and flavours.

Eames had selected Valentine’s Day, grinning at the cameras as he explained that his flavoured tiers would include three different variations of chocolate sponge: chocolate with amaretto ganache, white chocolate with raspberry filling, and red velvet with coconut cream. The decorative element played to his strengths as well.

Bakers had been allowed to bring along some decoration providing that they had made it themselves in the previous week, though the judges, of course, wouldn’t be thrilled if that sort of thing dominated the design. Eames had brought homemade Conversation Hearts to go along with the sugar paste decorations and elaborate piping that his design required.

Arthur found one in the pocket of his jacket only minutes after they’d announced the challenge.

DARLING, it read. It was pink.

Eames had been calling him _darling_ since day one. He had pet names for everyone. Sometimes. He called Ariadne _poppet_ a couple of times, and he used _love_ and _mate_ liberally. Mal had gotten _ma choupette_ once too (and the fact that Eames spoke fluent French and would sometimes converse back and forth with Mal during judging only further threatened Arthur’s composure). It didn’t mean anything...

The next candy heart was imprinted with SO LOVELY, also pink.

Arthur tried to take note of what the other hearts said at Eames’ station. They were definitely different colours, and he caught Eames explaining to Mal that they were each a different flavour too.

Another pink heart made its way into his pocket after they’d made rounds with the cameraman. This one said SO HOT. Refusing to blush in front of the cameras, Arthur forced himself to slow his pulse and lingered by Saito until he did, watching the man prepare his sponge for the oven.

As the hours passed he accumulated two more: WANT YOU, BE MINE. Again in pink and none of which matched the hearts that Eames was carefully decorating his bake with. 

The words DREAM, KISS, LOVE, ADORE, HOPE, and SWEET adorned the candy hearts that dotted the first tier of Eames' cake in pink, yellow, green, blue, purple, and orange. 

He didn't expect any more during the last scramble towards completion, but just as they called time Arthur discovered one last heart: ALL YOURS 

He looked up to meet Eames' gaze, but there was no time to read his expression. Cleaners were preparing the stations for filming and cameras were swooping in. There were elaborate descriptions for the elaborate cakes that were being judged, but Arthur's thoughts were in too much of a whirl to really register them. Everything was declared amazing and delicious and soon enough they were all outside in front of the crowd, Arthur restraining himself from touching the handful of candies in his pocket just to make sure that he hadn’t dreamed it all.

He was lucky that it was Ariadne’s turn to announce the winner. 

Eames.

Of course Eames. Yusuf was all smiles, having bonded with Eames early on in the season, and Saito was gracious and poised. Cameras darted around, closely followed by excited friends and family members. With several seasons experience, Arthur automatically fell into place, greeting past contestants and other wellwishers, and hanging back from Eames’ table. He had no right to intrude there. Eames’ mother had come and Arthur was certain he’d be watching teary footage later of Eames telling her how her fruitcake recipe had helped him reach the top.

Eames found him as the party was winding down. It always ended faster than Arthur expected. The day had been long, however, and he couldn’t blame the crew for wanting to wrap up.

“Congratulations on winning,” Arthur held out a hand. Eames took the handshake, grasping Arthur warmly.

“Have I?” 

“What?” 

Eames used his grip to pull Arthur in close, “I’ve certainly made my best effort, but it’s a family show, darling. So you’ll have to tell me.” 

Arthur felt him drop something heavier than a single piece of candy in his pocket. As he pulled away, Eames’ lips ghosted across Arthur’s cheek, leaving a trail of heat across his skin.

And then he was gone in the crush of the crowd.

In his pocket, Arthur found a cloth bag. A tiny card dangled from the ribbon that tied the bag shut. It read: Your Choice Darling. Inside were more conversation hearts, one of each flavoured colour. They read: FRIENDS (pink), KISS ME (yellow), HAND JOB (green), BLOW ME (light blue), FUCK ME (purple), ANYTHING 4 U (orange).

Arthur had to sit down.

Well. There was no mistaking Eames’ intent now. With no show rules to restrain him any longer, Eames had literally spelled out his desires with his explicit candy and left the choice in Arthur’s hands. 

Ariadne was going to be insufferable with I-told-you-so’s. If any of these hearts had made it onto Eames’ cake – a hysterical giggle escaped Arthur’s lips. The producers would have had an aneurysm. 

Arthur stared down at the bag on his lap. 

He sprang to his feet before he could overthink it. It took a few minutes, but he found Eames lingering by the garden well away from the activity of the crew.

“Arthur?”

“Found something of yours,” Arthur held a heart up to Eames lips, which parted readily to take the candy. No going back now. There was no way Eames could have read the tiny text, but Arthur trusted that he’d know which one it was by flavour alone.

Eames eyes went dark, “ _Darling._ "

His gaze was too intense and Arthur looked away, blushing, checking that they were alone. The cameras had been packed away and although a few people were still milling around the tent, he couldn’t spot any of the group that had come to support Eames.

Arthur caught Eames’ hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Do you want a ride back?” he asked, fairly certain of the answer.

Eames lit up, “Oh absolutely. Anywhere you like.” 

Arthur had never been happier that he’d decided to drive himself that weekend. They made it to the car without running into anyone on the way. Once inside, Eames leaned across the console and into Arthur’s space.

“I don’t suppose you have the rest of those hearts still?” 

Arthur handed over the bag wordlessly, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

Fishing around, Eames tossed away the pink heart with a smirk. Then he freed another and fed it to Arthur, a burst of lemon hitting his tongue. KISS ME.

It was another half an hour before they made it out of the lot. Thank God for tinted windows.


End file.
